Everything In Its Own Time
by Falaphesian
Summary: She walked on the edge of science and morality. She pried her way into the most jumbled and stubborn heart to ever grace the earth. But when it all came down to the be all and end all, did anyone have what it took to love the underdog? YK, KN, LR, LC.
1. Prologue: Arrival of a Gentlewoman

This piece of fanfic is one heck of a freak. But here goes.

A centrally Yuffie/Kairi fic, set in a D.C.-spoofed-Traverse Town/City/whatever. Before you ask-- no. RENT was not, by any means, an inspiration for this fic. Instead, that credit can be given to the splendid sounds of Indigo Girls' "Everything in Its Own Time." So without further ado, here it is, another little creation. Not as messed up as My Oh My, but considerably messed up all the same.

Enjoy!

(x) (x) (x)

**Everything In Its Own Time**

'Prologue: Arrival of a Gentlewoman'

_**"Remember everything I told you..."**_

-Y-

_I often find myself being stupid. _

_I don't wonder why I'm stupid, really. _

_Perhaps 'stupid' isn't the right word here. _

_Spacey. Shallow. _

_I sit in church and they play some song on the piano, some jiggy New Orleans dance tune with the old woman's vein-spun fingers flying left, right, up, down, feet pressing the peddles, legs pressing the feet. I sit silently and I wonder why they play so loudly. They play loudly because they don't want to hear the girl in the back row screaming, screeching, begging for answers that no one gives her._

_What is the reason for all of it? What is the reason for any of it?_

_Is there a reasoning backing reason or is there no reason for reason at all?_

_She screams, shouts, fists in her hair and eyes squeezed shut, lungs bursting, blood rushing, veins trembling. Mouth open, noise spills but not enough—no, never enough to carry over the piano._

_Picture yourself in a noisy bar. You're a nun and you want to sing, but no one cares. Are you religious or are you just sentimental? Now then, sing. I want to hear you over the din and the drunken men. I want to see your song through the cloudy room, the smoky air, the choking death. I want to hear you sing a song the hallowed halls of worship would never stand, never tolerate. I want to hear it and I want to hear it now, right **now**. I want it to be so loud and so pure that it makes the earth tremble unforgivingly, the sky open up and declare that you—yes you are the one, the **only **one who dared and did, who tried and triumphed. I want that glory for you and I want to see you basking in it, spreading your arms wide and facing towards the sun._

_And yet I do, I truly do find myself as stupid._

_Spacey. Ignorant. Vapid. Shallow._

_Because I don't have the sense to see and I don't have the patience to wait for you to start screaming, singing and clambering your way to the top. I'm in love with humanity if for no other reason than because I myself am so human, lacking in the tolerance I preach about so wildly, coming up short in the love and kindness I selfishly clasp between my own two scorched hands._

_Oh, how she screams now, her great angry sobs never ending as her voice pierces the stillness around them, around me, anger and hurt clamping down upon the sanctuary, some painful death hold that no one can hope to free themselves from._

_"I hate you!" she screams._

_Such foreign words as her voice begins to change, to writhe between my ears, to slice apart her throat and leave it torn, raw, bleeding from the inside out. No longer is her voice her own, no longer is my body truly mine. A demon, certainly. The crone, the witch, as my gnarled fingers clench into fists and I pound mercilessly against the chair, screaming for her to stop, her own wild shrieks of anger still bursting from within her like a river finally breaking through the dam._

_**"I hate you!"**_

_Hatred, hatred, hatred. Who am I to ever love such a vile little monster, to take it into my arms and whisper such sweet nothings in its ear? Its putrid breath ghosting across my face, talons buried deep within my neck, sharp and hawk-like face pressed against my cheek. Soothing, this hatred, this horrid hatred. And yet at the same time, a thought occurs to me, the old woman with bones in her hair and a cross to her back._

_"Hate… hate you…"_

_In every story, you will find elements of truth, love and justice, these figureheads of humanity. Some fool of long ago must have taken it upon himself to free them from the marble, these lovely things, these precious things. To dig deep beneath the surface and to declare he'd found humanity in such powerful glory, such strong and moving statues held high for all to see._

_That is original sin, if there ever was one. That disgusting ignorance, oblivious to the other half—truth, love, justice? What are they to mankind—what kind of virtues, really, are they without their darker sisters? Without the cold rain-slicked granite, the gargoyles poised upon the pillar, the pinnacle, engraved into our flesh alongside the others?_

_In all honesty, they are nothing without their darkest counterparts._

_Falsehood, hatred and ugliness—are these not also human virtues?_

_I know. I, the wraith on the curbside, hate clinging desperately to her neck, arms reaching desperately out for love, for attention, for a glimmer of any hope, of any goodness left. I, the student of the demons who sing so powerfully, so emotionally, screaming their hate in the halls of the church._

_And yet the words do not leave my mind…_

_"I hate you!"_

_Still as powerful as they were in their first hour, still as pitiless and deadly as the monster at my throat._

_And here I stand now, towering high above the heads of my fellow man, alongside their best of qualities, dark and light, just like them. A virtue._

_At the end of the day it is me who blocks you out. I am the mountains that move you towards the ends of the earth, I am the clouds that shift and spin to hide all light from your desperate eyes, your pale and lifeless face. _

_I am the blind man. I am the seer. I am the madman. I am the loving father. _

_That is why I am what I am, stupidity, clarity, and everything that falls between._

- - - - - - -

"--received no word from the police on whether this is a suspected homicide or a suicide. Though they have not made a statement, the police confirm that no clear-cut suspects have been found--"

The two women sat side by side, one hunched over her bowl of cereal, the other hunched over her bottle of nailpolish. The older of the two, the nail polish woman, looked at the television skeptically and declared, "I swear to God, the world's going more towards the pits every damn day. It's you kids, I swear. Why can't you kids just be-haaave, for God's sake? Poor little girl probably got raped or something. Poor little girl." Her voice sounded like some sort of horse, high-pitched and whining, matching her outward appearance perfectly. At that moment, she looked towards the young woman beside her-- the young woman who just happened to be her daughter.

"Come on, Yuffie, whaddya say, huh?"

Yuffie looked up from her bowl with a scowl on her face, one single little droplet of milk dribbling from the corner of her mouth. She blinked twice, morse code for "Fuck off" and went back to her breakfast.

"I swear to God, Yuffie. Have some _manners,_ for God's sake." Her mother rolled her eyes dramatically and brushed another layer of polish over her nails, admiring them in the light for a moment before turning a critical eye towards her daughter and adding, "Weren't you gonna get rid of those weird stripes in your hair, dearheart?"

Yuffie raised her bowl to her mouth, spoon clattering obnoxiously against it as she slurped down the remenants of milk. The stuff had some weird brownish-blue tinge to it, no more than an after effect of the Cocoa Puffs, Yuffie hoped.

"When's the last time we went shopping, Yuffie? Just the two of us, yanno? A sort of... Oh, what do people call it...? Mother-daughter-bonding-thing. One of those. It's been so long since you got a new pair of shoes, dearie, and all I've seen you wearing are those battered little... sneaker. Things."

Heaving one hell of a mighty sigh, Yuffie shoved her chair away from the table, scurrying over towards the sink and purposely allowing her 'battered little sneaker things' to squeak against the floor. But she couldn't escape her mother's stare-- when the old bat got going, she really got going. And no amount of reported homicide, suicide, or otherwise could keep her off of her daughter's back.

"They're just sneakers, Mom. People wear sneakers because they're comfortable."

"But they're hideous."

"They're orange!"

"I _know_."

Narrowing her eyes, Yuffie snapped, "And the 'stripes' in my hair? Yeah. They're not stripes. They're called highlights."

Pursing her lips together, Yuffie's mother looked almost as though she'd bitten into a rather nasty fruit. "Since when is blonde a color that highlights black? Honestly, dear. Did you learn nothing from those art classes you took?"

"Those were in fifth grade!"

"Well I notice you never forgot how to ride a bicycle."

Flinging her arms up in defeat, Yuffie groaned and whined, "I don't have time for you today, Mom! I swear to God!"

"I swear to God--"

"You_ always_ swear to God." Stare finally hardened into a glare, Yuffie stormed out of the kitchen, cursing in her head and snapping her fingers out of a nervous habit. One look through the window was all it took-- she hollered a half-hearted goodbye and rushed outside, the door slamming shut behind her.

Ah yes, her boy had finally shown up.

Yuffie was a curious girl. Much to her mother's dismay, she was no pretty wallflower of any sort and she had virtually no sense of style embedded anywhere in the bucket of wits she hauled around inside her. And yet if you were asked to, I assure you that you would be hard pressed to find another person on the face of this earth so delightfully human.

To Yuffie, gender was nothing more than a word. It was not something to base any choice off of, though there was that whole issue of pregnancy to consider-- but that was a minor thing, she was sure. In her mind, the best things the world had to offer were not only free, but easy to find. Nothing could make her fall in love faster than seeing someone who left their Christmas lights up outside all year round, who walked around with their hands tucked in their pockets, or who had the confidence to laugh insanely when no one else was uttering a single sound.

"Squall! You better have the damn air conditioning turned on!"

"Hm?"

"Fuck, it's boiling out here!"

Of course, he didn't have the air conditioning turned on. Nor did he waste any time in correcting her with a drawled, "It's Leon, Yuffie. Leon. Not Squall. Leon." But all in all, it was hardly much of anything to Yuffie, who spent the entire ride into the downtown district drumming her knuckles against her windshield and jumping from topic to topic without a care in the world.

"Hey, you remember that book we read when we were kids? Uh... What was it called... Hm. The... The Great Gatsby! Yeah! About that guy who was a total pathological liar. You remember that book, Squall?"

"Leon."

"You remember that book, Leon?"

"Sure."

"You liked it, right? I think I remember you liking it. Then again we had that bitch of a teacher, ol' What's-Her-Face. You know. The one who'd take off her damn stilletto and really whack the heel on your desk if you started spacing out. She always did that to me, man! Freakin' annoying."

"Mm."

"You were a good kid. She never did it to you."

"...Yuffie, it wasn't that long ago."

"Uh, hello? Senior year? Heck yeah, it was long ago."

"...Whatever."

"We sure read a helluva lotta depressing books in school, huh? Hey, how come we never read any happy books, anyway?"

"Happy literature doesn't exist."

The car remained relatively quiet as it rolled lazily towards a stop light. Yuffie took advantage of the opportunity with obvious glee. "So whaddya say, Squallie? Will you be my gold-hatted high-bouncing lo-ver?" she crooned.

"Um, no."

"...Come on, Leon, it was a line from the book. ...Come _on_, even you aren't that lame! Like... you know. Wear a gold hat, if it pleases her, and bounce high, should that please her, too-- until she says 'Oh gold-hatted high-bouncing lover, I must have...'" One look at Leon's expressionless face was enough to stop Yuffie mid-sentence. "...You don't remember, huh?"

"No." Green light. Yuffie carefully mulled over the idea of mentioning the green light the book held, but decided against it as the car puttered along underneath it. "That book had a great ending, don'tcha think?"

"Yuffie, I don't remember it," Leon replied, obviously not making an effort to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "I don't remember all the endings of all the books we read back in high school, alright?"

"...Hpmf. Well, who gives. No skin off my nose, that's for sure." Red light. They were deep into the heart of the city now, a regular concrete jungle stretching out around them, the road a narrow black Amazon winding through all the hubbub. But Yuffie caught a glimpse a a certain someone who just may have had the ability of making her day a hell of a lot brighter in a split second. Blonde hair, blue eyes. "Oh, what do we have here?"

"Yuffie," Leon's voice took on a sharp tone that, though Yuffie had heard it before, still successfully managed to scare the hell out of her. Determined not to let it show, Yuffie simply rolled her big brown eyes in a wild circle proceeded to eagerly roll down her window, a wave of warm, sticky air rushing in as she stuck her head out the window, much to Leon's dismay.

"CLO-OUD!"

There was a brief moment in which the man looked up, a quiet puzzled expression written across his features. An old blast from the past, a certain little someone who had once had a certain little crush on certain other someone who was most certainly not named Squall. Yuffie grinned in triumph. Ah, 'lo and behold, fate was still with her.

The young man came loping over, carrying an easy grace about him, a plastic shopping bag dangling from each hand, a timid sort of grin etched on his face with care as he looked up at her companion in the driver's seat. Noticing Yuffie was there, the boy laughed nervously and nodded towards her, a gesture she exchanged with just a bit too much enthusiasm for Leon to not be annoyed.

"Hi there, Cloud!"

"Cloud."

"Hey."

Leon glanced anxiously toward the light, praying for it to change. Meanwhile, Yuffie had her fair share of fun, her words making both men turn various shades of pink all the while--

"Man, I haven't seen you in forever, Cloud! How's school goin'? You find anybody better than dumb ol' Leon here? He's still a big old stick in the mud-- dunno what the _hell_ it is you saw in him. Doesn't even appreciate a decent book, did you know that? I mean, what kinda guy do you have to be to not appreciate a good book any day? Oh hey! That reminds me! Do you remember that book we read in English called The Great Gatsby? Do you remember how it ended? I was wondering if--"

"Oh, look at that." Leon raised an eyebrow at Yuffie as he pressed down on the gas, shooting the car through the stoplight and leaving poor Cloud on a curbside scratching his head.

_Nothing but a big dumbass, Squall. You're nothing but a big dumbass._

"You can't stay unemployed forever, Yuffie."

"I'm not unemployed. I'm between jobs."

"And collateral damage _doesn't _refer to all the dead children on the sidelines of a war. Listen, if you want to live with your mother forever..."

"I know, I know, okay? God, don't you think I know?" Yuffie's head met the passenger window with a dull thud, her eyes dropping shut as she murmured, "Man, if I spend one more day in that house, I swear to God..."

"...You always say that."

"What?"

"'I swear to God.'"

"Well go write a goddamn book about it if it's so goddamn fascinating." Thud. "Man."

"Yuffie..."

But they had reached the parking garage and Yuffie was already grappling with the door to force it open. Her sneakers hit the greasy asphalt with a slick sound, a strange sound that Yuffie, for some reason, found herself hearing through all the banging, clanging uproar of the city streets. She shook her head, pushed it aside, leaned back towards Leon's car and tapped on the window, leaving him with a little message.

"Pick me up in four hours, man. I swear to God, I'll have a job and buy us a fucking lobster dinner, okay?"

"You hate lobster."

"Yeah? Well I'll be rich enough to buy myself some grub I hate, got it?"

But as the day went on, Yuffie's lobster dinner began to dissolve into nothing more than a half-cooked burger and fries. ...Meaning that not only was she not having any luck in finding a job, but she was getting severely burnt out in the process.

"You mean to tell me you've never worked a day in your life and you expect to get a job in my firm?"

"You can't honestly expect me to hire you... Miss."

"Hey, lemme give you a tip, kid. Go back to school, wouldja? The only people who can get work in this town are college grads. Get it through your head."

It was because of all these rejections that Yuffie found herself walking the city streets, hands in her pockets and eyes downcast. Her old defensive machanism seemed to be malfunctioning-- she didn't feel the million-watt grin springing up to cleanse her face of failure, she didn't hear the snarky little remarks flit out of her mouth without second thought.

What she saw and what she noticed were the things outside herself, and it was because of this that Yuffie began to worry for her own mental stability, for it is a well-known fact that in Yuffie's eye, there _was_ no world outside herself.

Well. Talk about confusion.

A wrong turn here, a wrong turn there. She found herself in a branch of town she'd never been to before, a dirty, mud-streaked corner of some abstract Tinsletown, far away from anything and everything. At first glance, Yuffie believe the place was practically deserted. Gone was the chaos of the city streets, instead replaced by silent alleys and only an occasional hurried passerby. Ah, but then...

Then she began to see them.

The lucky ones out on the streets had wedged themselves in the countless doorframes of the old abandoned bulidings of the city, some cool kind of shade that they could find and claim as their own. The others littered the sidewalks right alongside the discarded McDonald's meals and Wendy's utensils, silent and still and dead by almost any definition. Some of them sat with their eyes glazed over, looking up at the sky as though waiting for something-- others held their eyes shut, fingers clasped-- and still others did nothing but sit and watch the dust rise and fall on the streets.

It was there Yuffie first saw her, leaned up against a brick wall, just inside the shadow of an alleyway. She held a cigarette to her lips and ran a tiny, nervous hand through her scraggly hair. _Probably just some junkie of some kind. Probably just some lame ass kid who figured she could get away from home real easy._

And yet there was something about her that Yuffie found rather disconcerting. She had no clue what it was at the time, but she assumed it was in the girl herself-- her attitude, her vacant stare. Some way in which she leaned against the wall like she was so fit to be there and only there.

The girl looked towards Yuffie. She'd felt her staring. But she didn't glare, she didn't flinch. She just simply observed. And so Yuffie felt curious enough to move in closer, to wave one hand in some semblance of a greeting, as though this girl was just some childhood friend she hadn't seen in a long time.

"He--" The girl had to clear her throat, coughing harshly into her hand before trying again. "Hey."

"You, uh... have someplace to go? It's... it's gonna be really hot today-- a scorcher, yanno. I mean, that's what I've heard."

"Yeah, well, I've heard it too."

"...You don't have a home or anything?"

She stared pointedly at Yuffie then, looking almost as though she teetered on the edge of bursting into laughter. "What the heck makes you think I just sit out here for the fun of it?" she asked. She started to laugh then, but it gave way to another small coughing fit. The cigarette was tossed to one side, left burning itself down on the alley floor.

"You run away or something?" Yuffie asked.

"Is it really any of your business?" the girl asked.

"Well, I mean... if you had parents or something... you know. I'm sure you could go back," Yuffie rambled on. But no, the girl just smiled sweetly, calmly. She had given the answers countless times and came off as being mature and well-rehearsed to Yuffie in such a way that it was even more bothersome that her casual posture against the wall.

"No, no. No parents."

"You_ have_ parents."

"When I was born, there was no doctor around. My mom had to bite my umbilical cord off with her own teeth, you know." The girl leaned in closer towards Yuffie and for the first time, there was a glimmer of something other than complete nothingness behind her eyes as she said, "But when she was doing it, she missed. When she was biting the cord, she missed, and instead she bit out my entire _heart_."

Fighting to ignore the unnerving skitter of nerves walking along her back, Yuffie crossed on arm over the other and pretended she's never heard the comment. She wasn't quite sure what came across her then, but she heard the words spilling from her mouth before she could even think to hold them back. "...Hey," she said. "I'll, uh... I'll give you this twenty for a kiss and a good read of poetry. Whaddya say?"

For all that she looked like one hell of a chain-smoker, the girl's voice was surprisingly soft, taking on a strange, liquid-smooth tilt to it. Perhaps it was forced, overcompensating for a smoker's hack.

"...I don't do poetry. And I'm not a whore," she said evenly.

"Did I ask to sleep with you? No. You've probably got herpes for crying out loud. I'm just trying to be a fucking good Sumaritan. Sue me."

"I would if I had a lawyer."

"Fuck you."

It was a strange thing, really... As Yuffie turned away, she was more disturbed than she was angry. She'd had the essays crammed down her throat in highschool-- hell, she'd witnessed it herself. She'd seen and experienced enough to know that there was nothing stronger than the hate of the hated. And she'd seen and experienced enough to know that, sad as it was, homeless bums_ were _hated in Traverse Town.

So had she wanted the other girl to lash out? Hit her, give her a bloody nose, scream profanities and wail like some nutty old banshee?

Yuffie didn't know. But she somehow found some disgusting part of herself which said, "Don't worry about her, don't worry about that freak. The heat'll knock her off by the end of the month. You'll see."

When Leon found Yuffie, he was not in his car. He was seated on a park bench with two fresh ice cream cones held awkwardly in his hands, and as Yuffie sat down beside him he wordlessly passed one on to her. Pistachio, of course. Her favorite flavor only her boy would know.

They sat in silence for a while, a silence that grudgingly acknowledged Yuffie's complete failure and Leon's complete triumph in the infamous argument of--

"Yuffie... what's so wrong with just finishing up school?" _There he goes again._

"Squall, cut it out."

"No," he said blandly. He wasn't angry, he wasn't scathing. But he was as firm and demanding as ever, something similar to a father, a friend, and a brother, all rolled into one. "You can't make a living like this. You don't want to spend the rest of your life living with--"

"Christ, Squall! Don't you think I know that!" Yuffie hung her head for a moment, her face prickling with the heat of the summer day and with the shame of knowing that she was still trying to fight a losing battle. "I hate this system. I've told you it before. I hate this system, man. No one's going to get anything fufilling out of learning crap we'll never use. I wanna go and experience things. Not learn about what other people have experienced for themselves..." she mumbled quietly.

She wasn't sure if Leon looked at her with sympathy or aggravation. But she felt an awkward hand on her shoulder and it was that awkwardness which burned her skin in a way the sun just couldn't. That realization that, despite all their years growing up together, despite all their differences they'd overcome... Leon was no closer to understanding her than he had been the first day they'd slapped each other upside the face with their completely opposite natures.

Needless to say, Yuffie was no closer to understanding Leon, either.

x x x

"Mom, I think I want to be a writer."

"...You're kidding me."

"I... well, no. No, actually I'm not."

Another seemingly uneventful evening in the Kirasagi household. Or rather... it had been. Yuffie narrowed her eyes at her half-empty plate before her, suddenly seeming very focused on mashing her remaining peas mercilessly beneath her fork. _Shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have said anything..._ She could feel her mother watching her, judging her, picking her apart with her beady little eyes and _damn,_ it was enough to drive anyone straight to an early grave.

A thick sigh, a dry clack of dishes meeting the surface of the marble counter. Nails clacking against the surface and a silence that was anything but-- Yuffie gnawing her bottom lip and killing, killing, killing her food over and over again. Then came words-- always with the words.

"I swear to God, Yuffie. I mean, I know you have your off days, but you're not stupid, for God's sake! I mean..." _Here it comes, I asked for it. Damn, damn, damn, but I should've known better than that... _ "Oh, Yuffie. Get it together, would you? And once you've got it together, do us all a favor and keep it together."

"...I wasn't joking, you know!" Yuffie's resolve began to crumble and she looked away angrily as her mother paused in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. She said softly, "I like writing, Mom."

There was a pause. And then came the question, "Do you like eating?"

"Oh Mom, for crying out loud..."

"Do you like sleeping in a bed, wearing decent clothes? You go on and be a writer, hon, lemme tell you something-- you be a writer, you better write all that stuff _off_!"

In her attempts to not flinch at the cold lash of the words, Yuffie's hands curled into stubborn fists, nails biting into her palms as her teeth bit into her bottom lip. _Tie down her fists, tie down her tongue-- you've got her all bound up with nowhere to run._

Whether or not she sensed her daughter's pent-up rage, Yuffie's mother made a significant effort at making her tone a little less sharp, though it only came out as more of a listless drawl rather than much of anything else. "I don't want you living in the basement forever. I want you to have a life, hon. _ I_ want to have a life. Is it really all that hard?"

Yuffie didn't say anything. Instead, she studied the mush of peas beneath her fork and found herself fighting the sudden urge to be sick.

"Listen, hon. You just... you don't have the nature of a true writer. Come on now, all of them are either stoners or manic depressive freaks who sit in second-rate apartments all day with a musty old typewriter and last week's socks. You aren't one of them, Yuffie. I know it. You know it. You're not fooling anybody in this house... or anywhere else, for that matter."

_At the end of the day it is me who blocks you out. I am the mountains that move you towards the ends of the earth, I am the clouds that shift and spin to hide--_

Once safe inside her own room, Yuffie closed the screen open and waiting on her computer, didn't save, moved it all straight to the virtual recyling bin lying in a hungry wait on her desktop. She could make out the little digital paper scraps and made a serious effort to entertain herself by imagining their little scrams, begging for mercy as they were ripped to invisible shreds.

There was a piece of driftwood that hung over Yuffie's bed. She couldn't remember when or where she'd come across it, who she'd been with or why she had decided to keep it. But there it hung like some childhood trophy, suspended from her ceiling by four transparent little cables, giant, smooth, and hollow. During daylight hours, the driftwood had a lovely sandy color to it, its size stretching far enough to nearly lie completely parallel to Yuffie's entire bed. When the lights were out, the driftwood grew. Some shadow cast by moonlight or lamplight was sent flying down, up, left, right-- stretching the wood to distorted porportions, far more hollow than ever before.

It was that driftwood that Yuffie studied that night before she fell asleep. Her eyes walked the line of shadow and she focused so hard, somehow getting it into her mind that only this one magical piece of wood could hold the answers to her questions.

_Will I ever really have what it takes to make it out of this house and on my own? Why does it seem like I'll only have what it takes if I do it someone else's way? What's wrong with _my_ way?_

But before the wood could answer, Yuffie was fast asleep, her dreams clouded with screaming paper, crooning gargoyles, and girls with bloody teeth and wicked smiles.

(x) (x) (x)

Love it? Hate it? Want it all to be over with? Lemme know.


	2. The Fingersmith

Gah, um... Seems there was a bit of a misunderstanding. Leon/Riku is NOT-- I repeat, **not**-- a pairing in this fic. That 'LR' in the summary? Yeah. That R's not for Riku. That's for Rinoa. Eheheh. Completely my fault. Sorry about that folks. Erm. There **will** be Leon/Cloud later, but... Just wanted to clear that up.

...So! Moving right along!

(x) (x) (x)

**Everything In Its Own Time**

'The Fingersmith'

_"Keep it in your heart like a stone..."_

-K-

_I imagine that her hands are like something still unseen, still untouched by anyone and anything. They are frail like shards of glass, rough like a sandy beach cove, and filthy-- so filthy that even your average kid, your average little three year old, would think twice about taking a muffin held between those hands._

_Those filthy, disgusting hands._

_I do not now, do not _ever_ want to touch, want to have a part of those hands. Tobacco leaves beneath the nails, a thin ring of blood around the cuticles-- no, truly, nothing you have ever seen before._

_But the nails are so fine. But beneath the dirt, the grime, perhaps the skin is so soft..._

_Those pure, beautiful hands._

_I did not undress her with my eyes, I traced her fingertips slowly and with care. I cringed, hated, and pitied her-- I loathed, wanted, and needed her. Not only did I get nothing, I got less than nothing. I found myself with my own pair of dirty hands, not hers or yours, but mine at last, my very own. _

_And nothing was very beautiful about them at all._

x x x

"Na-mi-né..." The girl's arms came up around her shoulders, carefully moving a dirty little plait of blonde hair out of the way. Across from the two of them was The Wall, bright, colorful, and full of the most abstract, most alluring things Kairi had ever laid eyes on. "Hee. Lovely as always," she crooned playfully.

"Thanks." Naminé turned her head just slightly enough so she could shoot the other girl a smile before she turned to her work once more. Sidewalk chalk was her weapon of choice, marring The Wall with as many different colors as she could chance to stumble upon abandoned in the city gutters. _But then again_, Naminé thought for a moment, _when you look for anything, you're bound to find it. Even sidewalk chalk._

Kairi focused more intently on the image on The Wall, honing in on each edge and each curve. Some of the figures were people, no doubt, but not the sort of people Kairi was used to seeing everyday. These people were in no hurry, they wore no black, no suits, they carried no briefcases, no purses. They were so much simpler than that-- just beautiful, ordinary human beings, standing in a loose and brightly colored ring. One, two, three, four, five, six total. And they all looked the same.

"K-Kairi... Hey, are you...?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay? You look sort of spacey or something."

Shaking her head, Kairi smiled warmly and said, "No, I'm just tired..." Almost as an afterthought she continued in a quieter tone, "Hey, 'Miné? Have you um... You haven't seen anyone hanging around here lately, have you?"

Naminé froze, her little shard of sidewalk chalk resting loosely in the palm of her hand. "You've seen him too, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"W-What do you think he wants?"

"Dunno." Kairi cocked her head to one side just slightly, thinking for a moment, a dull word escaping her lips in the process. "Huh."

"What?"

"...Nothing. Nevermind." _Something about the image is wrong, but I don't know what it is._ Tearing her eyes away from the wall, Kairi pulled Naminé back into her arms, the two of them tumbling backwards onto the filthy concrete floor. Laughing cheerfully, Kairi pointed lazily in front of them, back towards The Wall. "You going to finish this one or what?"

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Naminé flopped leisurely on the girl beneath her, declaring, "Na-ah. Not moving. Too comfy."

"You're just a lazy sack of bones, yanno."

"Hee, that's me." Tossing the piece of chalk off to one side, Naminé's hands curled into little fists, holding onto Kairi by her sweatshirt. She watched as the tiny piece of chalk rolled slowly down the alleyway, the entire foundation set at just the slightest tilt. The chalk left no path behind it.

"Lemme know if you see him again, okay?" Naminé asked. Kairi simply nodded, and for them, that was the end of that particular discussion.

x x x

For as long as Yuffie could remember, she had always had Leon. Now, 'having' Leon had never truly entailed actually _having_ Leon in the true sense of the word until middle school rolled around.

But his presence had been with her since those early days of preschool, back when Play-Doh was edible and children could control the weather simply by cutting some holes in a sheet of paper and calling it snow. He'd always been a quiet kid, and Yuffie, for the most part, had always been a loud and obnoxious twerp. She had never directed any sort of rude commentary towards Leon, nor had she and her teeny-bopper buddies ever singled him out as a target of any sort.

Through much of her life, Yuffie had viewed Leon just as he wanted to be viewed. Completely and utterly untouchable.

What had sparked the change? Yuffie... wasn't sure. Maybe there was some event in some long-ago-far-away kind of setting, but she couldn't place her finger on it, exactly. It was as though one morning she had just woke up and decided to change her life around-- yeah, to touch the untouchable and isolate the sociable. Hate one, love another. Find a certain glum little kid and convince herself she could change him for the better.

But that was all just some distant past.

Yuffie's summer had passed by, leaving her mentally beating the shit out of every pimply-faced high school kid who worked behind the counters when school started up. _You stole my job, you little fucker! _ Of course, she never said that. Instead, she fixed a broad smile on her face and always ensured that she never told such spoiled brats to keep the change. It wasn't because Yuffie was selfish. It was because she feared herself actually saying, "Yeah, kid, keep the change! Keep the change and go shove it up there where the sun don't shine. Idiot."

...Yes, it was a bitterness that Yuffie had a hard time overcoming.

Still, she was out there, day in and day out. With Leon's car at her disposal and the endless desire to get the hell out of her mother's house, Yuffie refused to fall victim to that nasty little plague of _giving up_. She was determined to kick the world in the ass and beat the system she despised so much, but if one little job (or the lack thereof) was going to hold her back... well, Yuffie would show that job... thing... whatever.

She held in her hand a sheaf of paper printouts she'd gotten offline-- different businesses in the area in need of 'responsible, reliable employees.' Yuffie could be responsible and reliable. Heck yeah! It was just a matter of her being in the right mood to be responsible and reliable, that was all.

Passing a boy on the street, Yuffie couldn't help but glance down, catch sight of the red sidewalk chalk, the black lipstick, eyebrow piercing-- a kid trying to make a statement with the words written on the ground, "_I'm trapped in a room full of wonderful colors, but it's not really so bright-- I'm afraid of the dark._" She really wanted to laugh at his dumbass attempts at defying society with such an oh-so-bold statement of dress and declaration, but when she tried, it sort of ended up sounding like she was choking on a frog. Such a weird noise attracted the goth's attention, and before Yuffie knew it, she was stuck there, rooted to the spot, his eyes meeting hers.

Yuffie shot him her best girlish grin, returned with a blank, dark stare that made her shrink back and hurry along her way. It wasn't so much that he glared. It was just that his eyes were a menacing blood red.

But Yuffie's renewed energy for her job-hunt was quickly cut short by one niggling little high-pitched voice that just flew right in out of the blue.

"I don't believe it! Yuffie? Yuffie Kirasagi? No _way_!" Suddenly she was face to face with her, the bubbly, cheerful... Rinoa Heartily. Eagerly drawing closer towards Yuffie, Rinoa's grin only widened as she pushed her black ponytail over her shoulder, hands coming to clasp one another beneath her chin. "Omygosh, it's been _forever_! How _are_ you?"

"I'm, er..." _I'm shocked you're talking to me, really, but aside from that, I'm cold, hungry, and unemployed. How about you?_ "...Rinoa! Wow! Yeah... I mean, wow! ...Haven't seen you in a while, huh?"

"It's been _way_ too long, seriously. Why haven't we ever done coffee or something, huh? God, I just _hate _losing contact with people, you know. This has to be some sort of sign or something, you know?" Rinoa's warm brown eyes danced with her usual merriment as she capped a small jar of paint Yuffie hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Wiping her hands off on her her denim-clad thighs, Rinoa laughed randomly, absurdly, and with absolutely no reason.

"Yeah... Sure do."

Taking about half a moment to actually look at her surroundings, Yuffie began to piece together a few very important facts at a very, very quick rate. For one, Rinoa was not just ambling along on the sidewalk-- there were plastic tarps spread out across the ground in front of an apparently vacant shop, darkened windows only brightened up by the fresh coat of decorative paint applied, declaring "Grand opening on Monday, January 23rd!" and showing a little stick girl dressed in a frilly hippie skirt and long multi-colored trench-coat.

...Well, Yuffie had to admit. That was pretty well-crafted stick person Rinoa had going for her there.

She considered pointing out the fact that the two of them had rarely exchanged more than two words to one another in high school, but on second thought... What exactly was RInoa doing outside a partially boarded up old shop? Hmm, Yuffie could just smell the opportunity. "Er, sooo... Whatcha doin'?" she asked innocently.

"Doin--? OH! Oh!" Slapping on a broad and pearly white grin, Rinoa clapped her hands excitedly as she spun about in a little twirl. "Yuffie, I swear you're gonna love it. It's gonna be absolutely amazing. I have it all planned out-- the funding and everything. It'll be totally fabulous and it's completely geared towards people our age, you know?"

"What is it?" And then Yuffie saw the sign. "...'Banana'...?"

"Ana Banana!"

"What the fuck is Ana Banana?" For some reason, Yuffie suddenly found herself stifling the sudden desire to smash Rinoa's face in. _Whoa! Where the hell'd that come from? Violent urges, inner self. Violent, violent urges._

"Huh?"

"...I mean... Wooow! What a cute name! Hey, Rinoa? Um, this uh, business of yours..."

"It's a discount clothing store. All these totally cool vintage clothes at really reasonable prices! Cool, huh?"

And then it all hit Yuffie like a big, painful revelation. Not all that different from getting smacked upside the head with a large, well-crafted brick. "Oh, um, yeah, very cool." Falling into step alongside Rinoa as the girl picked up her little cardboard box of paints and brushes, Yuffie stuck her hands into her pockets and ventured, "So, say, uh, don't suppose you're looking for any employees or anything...?"

Pausing, Rinoa glanced sideways at Yuffie with a calculating little look, glossy lips puckered together in thought. After half of an anxious moment, Yuffie's dreams were shattered with the words of the carefree girl. "Oh. Ohhh, I get what you're lookin' at, Yuffie. Heehee, sorry, but I'm runnin' the store all by myself during the hours I'm not in school. It's cheaper and easier to handle that way."

"Ah, you're sure? I mean, yanno, you could lose a lo-ot of business when--"

"Sorry, Yuffie. Maybe some other time?"

"...Right."

Talking along pleasantly, Rinoa acted as though Yuffie's hopes of a future were, of course, still perfectly intact. "See, I really need to keep my budget under control. Especially with all the crazy competition out here, you know what I mean?" With that, she made a bitter face and nodded towards a shop across the street. Figuring it couldn't hurt to humor the girl, Yuffie looked.

There stood two chipper blonde girls, both wearing identical hairstyles and make-up. They each had on small white skirts, the only difference in their attire being in the color of their baby-doll tees. ...To be honest, it was all Yuffie could do to keep from gagging at their million-watt grins and high-pitched laughter that travelled all the way across the jam-packed city streets.

"They're absolutely impossible," Rinoa continued with a heavy sigh. "Stuck up little bitches the both of them-- the only reason they're so popular is because they run a 'family' store. People eat that junk right up. They just lo-ove buying junky clothing from twins. I don't even get the appeal, but whatever."

"You knooow, Rinoa... has anyone ever told you that we look kinda similar?"

"Um. No?"

"...Oh." Well, it was worth a try. Sorry, Rinoa, but I don't really care about your problems-- they sure as heck aren't mine. Thankfully, Yuffie didn't have the time to explain all this to Rinoa, for she spotted a very familiar little car amidst all the others packing the street. Leon! Thank God! Turning back towards Rinoa as Leon pulled over to the side of the road, Yuffie grinned brightly and said, "Well hey, uh, my ride's here, so I--"

Ah, but there was just one little detail she'd forgotten...

"Is that... It is!" And that little detail just happened to be Rinoa's never-ending obsession with her best friend all throughout their high school years. "Squall!"

"He goes by Leon," Yuffie mumbled, mentally making a note to kick herself in the ass. Or better yet, to kick Rinoa in the ass and claim it was an accident. Perhaps accidentally push her into the flow of oncoming traffic. Accidents were wonderful, wonderful inventions, really...

"_Hey_ Squall!" _Cringe, twitch, shudder, get the hell away from him._

"Um... Hello." Leon blinked up at Rinoa with a slightly puzzled look, glancing towards Yuffie and then back towards RInoa again.

"Hey listen, how crazy is this, right? I mean, running into you and Yuffie in the same day, right?"

"Leon is my ride," Yuffie explained lamely.

"...Ohh-hhh. Your _ride_?" Rinoa's brilliant grin suddenly took on a bit of a mocking edge to it as she placed her hands on her shapely little hips, saying, "Yuffie and Squall? Never woulda pegged _you_ guys together."

"That's because we're not," Leon added in hurriedly, awkwardly. He blinked, glanced towards Yuffie again in one silent attempt at _Hey, no hard feelings_. "We're not... Together, that is."

At this Rinoa couldn't help but arch one slender black brow, a delighted little smile playing across her face as she chirped in that sing-song voice of hers, "Oh, you don't say? Huh. Guess I was right." The momentary silence was just long enough for her to throw a wink in the direction of the girl beside her before grabbing her by the elbow and steering her delicately off to the side. "Yuffie, you wanna bring that box over here? _Thanks,_ hon."

"Yeah, no problem..."

Plucking the cardboard crate of poster paints and brushes from Yuffie's open arms, Rinoa gave her a cheery little smile. The box fell to the ground and Rinoa slung one carefree arm around the skinny shoulders of the girl beside her-- an awkward position, seeing as Yuffie stood almost half a head taller than the vertically-challenged Rinoa.

"Yuffie's my new employee, Squall. We're kinda gonna start this place up together, so whaddya think? We look close enough to pass as sisters?"

_What! Are you kidding me? You wouldn't even think of it two minutes ago and now you're all over the goddamn idea?_

"Not really."

_Yay, I always knew you were on my side, Leon!_

"All in good time, right? We'll get there..." With a lighthearted giggle, Rinoa energetically ruffled Yuffie's hair, causing the other girl to stiffen abruptly and experience that increasingly common desire of face-smashing again. Completely and utterly oblivious, Rinoa continued talking to Leon-- _Yuffie's_ Leon, quite merrily, as always. "So if you're Yuffie's ride, guess I'll be seeing both of you guys a lot more often now, huh?"

"...I... guess so."

_What the-- you fucking traitor!_

"Awesome!" Waving her index finger under Yuffie's nose, Rinoa chirped, "Monday at nine, Yuffie! See ya there."

Having slid into the seat of the car and close the door, Yuffie waited until they reached the end of the block before she finally spoke.

"...I don't fucking believe it."

"You got a job. I know. Impressive."

"No, I don't fucking _believe_ it."

"...Okay, it's not_ that _impressive, Yuffie. You're just a--"

Scowling angrily, Yuffie turned in her seat to glare at Leon, snapping, "She fucking hired me because of _you_! Jesus! I mean... That little pig. That fucking little pig."

"Did you ever think to consider the possibility that your language might, every _once_ in a while, be just a little extreme for--"

"What, so now that I've got a job, you're on my case for my fucking language?"

"Yuffie."

"...I'm sorry. Hey, I... Damn. It's just... Come on, Leon. I... Fuck."

"Are... you okay?" Frowning, Leon cleared his throat, perfectly aware of how forced and awkward those words sounded coming from his mouth. "Yu--"

"Just drive the fucking car."

He had half a mind to slam on the breaks, to scowl and redraw the lines between them. _"Don't tell me what to do." _But on second though, thought, that probably would've been childish. Even though Yuffie may not have had the sense to tell the difference between what was appropriate and what wasn't, Leon refused to let himself stoop down to that level. If she wanted the car to carry her lazy, angry ass all over town, well fine.

Without any more prompting, that was just what Leon did. He drove the car. He drove the car in silence and he drove the car for quite a long while, taking them out of the city, into the suburbs, past the park, past the cherry grove now glazed in a soft new frost that glistened cheerfully in the moonlight. Past the drug store, past the bowling alley, deeper and deeper, crawling and crawling along until they came to the old high school. The parking lot stood vast and empty, a black nothingness which stretched out in all directions, boundless and speckled by thick yellow lamplight.

Leon unlocked the doors, stepped outside, and waited for a moment until Yuffie got the message and opened her door as well. Silently, wordlessly, the two of them made their way across the asphalt, up a jagged flight a stairs that was set into a hill, a fenced-in hill. The silence disturbed Leon and he didn't trust it-- so he mentally excused himself for whistling a half-hearted little rendition of _Blackbird _to fill the silence. Yeah, yeah, something he rarely did. But then again, Yuffie was rarely so quiet. It all balanced out in the end.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, man," Yuffie said after a long moment, her voice straining against its natural loud and annoying lilt.

Raising an eyebrow, Leon ceased his whistling and waited patiently for Yuffie to continue. The two of them both hand their hands folded into their pockets for warmth as they reached the old vacant track, one dark oval that stretched around, only broken by brilliant white lines clearly dividing the lanes. And that was how they walked, one in each lane, slowly and quietly around the track before Yuffie managed to put her thoughts together as best she could.

"Rinoa only gave me that job because she wants to bang you, you dingus."

"Yuffie, no one says dingus anymore."

"Yeah, well I'll call you a damn dingus if I feel like calling you a goddamn dingus. And I feel like calling you a goddamn dingus, so you're a goddamn dingus."

"Idiot."

"Dingus," Yuffie repeated. Leon snorted, something between an exasperated sigh and a chuckle, shoving Yuffie playfully on the shoulder. Balling her hands into fists, Yuffie bounced back, laughing and punching him in the arm, hardly phasing him in the least. "Knock it off, punk, I'll deck you one!"

"I'd like to see you try." Leon smirked and allowed another moment's worth of silence to fall between the two of them. Halfway around the track, he spoke again, voice back to its normal, deep tone, completely devoid of any humor whatsoever. "You're taking the job, aren't you?"

"Fuck yeah, man. You think I wanna live with my mother forever? HAH! I got better plans, wa-ay better plans. Me 'n Rinoa, yeah, we'll work together. Then you knock her up, knock her out, leave me the store and I'll make a goddamn fortune. I'll have emeralds spilling out my goddamn ears, man!"

"Sounds appealing."

"The emeralds or the knocking up part you gotta be doing?"

"Yuffie..."

"Hey man, I'm cool with it if you are. You know that girl's gonna be hounding you every damn day you drop me off! And you can't just _not_ take me into town with you. I mean, you're a dingus, but you're not an asshole. You're not a professional _asshole_, man."

"...Are you implying I'm an _amateur_ asshole?"

"Does my set of wheels rest on my answer?" Laughing delightedly at Leon's annoyance, Yuffie turned around to face Leon, now walking backwards along the track, Leon walking forwards. They'd made it around the bend, so it was just a matter of Yuffie being able to walk in a relatively straight line, now. Tucking her arms behind her head, Yuffie studied the faint flickering of the stars for about half a second (as long as stars could really hold her interest) before looking back down towards Leon.

"You really want me to get this job, huh? You're even willing to hack it out with Rinoa. Impressive, man. Impressive. Remind me to buy you a fucking pony."

"You can keep the pony."

"Great, I'll name it after you. I'll ride him to work every day and see if Rinoa makes any more cracks about my choice of transportation when she's haulin' Squallie Junior around in her-- Whoa!" Slipping and falling backwards onto her ass, Yuffie took the opportunity to whine and complain as always, only causing Leon to grow more and more annoyed, crossing his arms and scowling down at his immature friend. His immature friend who, at that moment, just happened to spot the shadows inside the ring of the track, shifting about on the open, grassy field.

Instantly, she knew what they were. "Geese!"

"Huh," was Leon's only reply.

"I wonder how come they're still here. It's cold, yanno. They're s'posed to be gone by now-- it's almost February!" Hopping to her feet, Yuffie waved her arms around frantically hollering, "HE-EY, ya big dumb geese! Get outta here! You're gonna freeze to death if ya sta-ay!"

Leon shook his head, watching as the birds panicked and squawked madly before taking off into the night, the steady beat of wings the only notice of their departure. Eventually, however, they made a broad sweep of the high school campus, passing under and over the lights of the parking lot, plunging the entire area into a deeper blackness for a few moments.

"Effective."

"I thought so." Yuffie beamed, resuming her backwards walk as though she'd never fallen in the first place. "I like how they fly. They're so organized. Kinda like those crazy little fighter planes, right? Something like that, anyway. But we took after them, not the other way around."

"Geese aren't that smart, Yuffie."

"Oh yeah? Says who? _You?_"

"Yes. If you were to get two people, have them each stand on opposite sides of a flock of geese... have them run and chase the geese together... the birds would crash."

"You're a big dumb communist," Yuffie accused with an indignant little huff.

"..._What?_"

"Shuddup, ya big dingus of a commie."

"...Whatever."

x x x

Naminé's words came through the sleepy night, brushing up against Kairi, one lingering little pale hand pulling aside a tangled web of blood red.

"Kairi, do you... do you r-remember your mother?"

Sitting up against the cool brick wall, Kairi blinked sleepily, peering down at Naminé through the darkness. "...No, not really. Not at all, I guess," she said, her voice still thick and groggy with sleep. But Naminé didn't seem to mind. She simply held tighter to the baggy sweatshirt Kairi wore, nuzzling her face childishly against the warm fabric.

"...Did... you ever think of going to look for her?" Naminé asked.

"I don't think so, no."

"Lazy..."

"I'm not lazy." Kairi smiled slightly, prodding the girl in her lap gently, jokingly. "...I just don't remember her. I want to. But I can't. It doesn't matter, does it? It must be what she wanted-- for it to be like this."

"Don't say that... I'm sure she never meant for... you know."

"It's fine, 'Miné, go back to sleep." And it fell silent again, or at least, as silent as it could be. There was still the steady drone of cars in the street, of people-- drunk and sober alike-- shouting back and forth across the street from one another, catcalls and curses all blending together in the end. But finally, Naminé's voice came back, clear despite the background noise.

"...What... would you do... if you found her?" she asked.

"I... um. I don't know." Kairi thought for a moment, wondering if she'd be able to let it drop or not. Now that she really thought about it, she hadn't ever really taken the time to think about things like that. But Naminé's eyes waiting open in the dark hinted that no, she wouldn't be able to let it drop. At least, not just like that. Not quite that easily.

"I'd smile at her, I guess. You know... I'd try and be nice. Be civil. I'd... I guess I'd try really hard. Maybe I could make her happy. Maybe she'd want me." Hesitating for a moment, Kairi bit her bottom lip before continuing, "If she didn't, that would be okay. But I would ask her why she didn't want to love me."

"What if it wasn't her fault that she had to leave you behind...?"

"I'd hug her and tell her she was my mother, because it'd be the truth, I guess. And because I'd want it to be the truth. Because she'd want it, too."

"What do you think she looks like?"

"I've... well, I've never really thought about it. Like me, I guess. But prettier. Older, of course. And she's... She's kind of got those little tiny wrinkles some people have by their eyes. And when she smiles, the little wrinkles grow bigger, but they're still pretty. She's not heavy, not skinny, not tan, not pale. Warm and comforting, I guess, but sad and happy at the same time."

"She sounds nice."

"She is."

"I hope she finds you."

"...'Miné?" But the closed eyes in the city-dark hinted that no, they wouldn't pick up the conversation again. At least, not just like that. Not quite that easily. "...Naminé?"

x x x

When Leon dropped Yuffie off that evening, the sky had long turned a cold and lifeless sort of black, the porch light had long since been put out, turned off. She watched the taillights spin lazily around the bend and stood in the dark for only a moment, taking in a smattering of stars, of distant streetlights in the downtown that seemed so far off. There was a kind of excitement that still streamed through her, but, like the porch light, she couldn't help but feel it had been snuffed out long ago, replaced by some sort of eerie sense of dread.

_Okay, this is cool, this is what I wanted, right?_

And that big hunk of driftwood dangling over her bed-- it would nod along with her, gently and silently. _Yeah, yeah, sure, this is perfect, just perfect, dammit, just perfect, great, lovely, wonderful._ Well that had to be some consolation, didn't it? That a big dead piece of wood with agree with her and applaud her newfound job. ...Which, of course, came at the cost of whoring off her boy.

"...while to that rock I'm clinging-- since love is lord of heav'n and earth, how can I keep from sing--?" The voice faltered, stopped. Outside her mother's bedroom doorway, Yuffie hovered stupidly, not knowing whether to scuttle off to her own room in defeat or stand there and see what sort of hell her mother felt like dumping on her head that evening. "Yuffie? That you?"

Yuffie said nothing, just biting her lip and waiting in the dark. After a moment she heard a soft huff of a sigh come from her mother, a small clack which must have been her setting the little hand mirror on the vanity, though the quiet swish of brushing hair didn't leave just yet.

"How can I keep from singing...?"

_I haven't heard her sing in a while. Not since I was kid, I guess. Huh. Weird. For a second there, I think maybe I almost... missed it. Yeah, talk about weird. I must be fucking losing my mind. Maybe Rinoa sucks brains, too..._

x x x

Kairi was awake as the truck rolled down the street, an early morning light illuminating its painted side: Shenandoah Valley-- quality dairy-- everyday. One hand managed to work itself free from Naminé's still-sleeping limbs, rubbing at Kairi's eyes while the other hands gently worked on freeing the rest of Kairi's poor stiff body from the rest of Naminé's still-sleeping sack of self. She was only half successful though, for no sooner had she managed to slide out from her warm and comfortable prison, Naminé began to stir, mumbling and grumbling something unintelligible that brought a smile to Kairi's face. Despite the dark, despite the cold, it still managed to work its magic.

"'Miné... I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" Her arm resting lightly on the blonde's shoulder, Kairi was relieved to find that she wasn't shivering anymore-- that she actually seemed quite pleasant, quite warm to the touch. But the moment the words left Kairi's mouth, Naminé jolted into full consciousness, shaking her head crazily, her pale hair falling around her pale face, her pale eyes.

"Nuhnuh, w-wait a sec, Kai... H-hold on a second!"

"What, what?"

"I just..." She blinked once, twice. Stared blankly at Kairi with an expression that demanded understanding, but just fell too short to get it. "Just don't go."

Kairi stared at Naminé as levelly as she could, but from Naminé's frantic gestures, she still found herself several inches below eye-level with the girl clinging to her shoulders. "What's the matter with you, huh? You have a bad dream?"

"No! Just listen to me, would you?"

"Miné, you're hungry, right?"

"...No, I'm fine."

"Well I'm not. Listen, there's a truck pulled up just across the street there, okay? I'm just gonna be gone for a few minutes and I'll be right back."

"NO." Both of them seemed to be taken aback by the sudden ferocity in Naminé's words, for which she instantly began to apologize, to explain as quickly and as best she could. "Kairi, listen, just listen, okay? Please don't go just yet-- just wait until it's light out, would you? It's still dark and..."

"And I'll only be just across the street. And I'll only be gone a few minutes." Kairi smiled warmly up at Naminé, who seemed to relax slightly, be it in defeat or in comfort. Her mouth quirked downwards into a slight frown as Kairi ruffled her long hair with as much affection as she could muster, but... something felt wrong.

Naminé wasn't even looking at her.

"...Miné, you okay?" Kairi asked quietly.

"I'm cold," came her dull response. Smiling softly and just shaking her head, Kairi tugged her own baggy sweatshirt off, offering it to Naminé with one grubby hand. When the girl made no motion to reach for it, Kairi heaved a small sigh and set about pulling the garment over the other girl herself, who suddenly seemed limp as a rag-doll, as a small disagreeable little child who just never felt like cooperating with her mother.

"There."

"Kairi?"

"What is it?"

"I love you."

Somewhat startled by the sudden, quiet words, Kairi could only smile and tuck a stray strand of hair behind Naminé's perfectly shaped little ear, just before placing a quick kiss on her forehead. "I know," she said. "Love you too. Back in a sec, okay?"

x x x

Something caused Yuffie's eyes to shoot open in the middle of the night. She didn't know what time it was, she didn't know what exactly had happened, but all she could make out in the darkness was the comforting shadow hanging over her, just like always. She paused, grinned, and looked towards the clock. A little after six. Okay, so not quite as middle-of-the-night as she thought, but still.

Rolling over and tucking herself under her comforter once more, Yuffie tried to push away whatever disturbing feeling it was that had awoken her in the first place.

x x x

The blood could be seen from miles away, such a bright and radiant little puddle it formed in the cracks of the old, dead pavement. It ran down the gutters in thick and silent streams, and for just a moment, none was wiser than the shadow that pulled away from the girl's body.

The scream could be heard from miles away, such a desperate and lovely scream that drifted from one ear to another in the cold, dead morning. It kissed the lips of sleeping children and they awoke screaming too, not knowing why, not caring why, but terrified nonetheless. For just a moment, none suffered more than the one girl bent over the other, steeped in a crimson wash of blood.

Mrs. Kirasagi made her way down the dawn-lit street, purse clutched between her hands and lips pursed firmly shut into a grim line. She too had heard the scream and she instinctively walked a little faster, moved from one streetlight to the next, heels clacking obnoxiously against the concrete sidewalk. The wail of sirens started, the lights began to flicker on in the condos, the apartments. The city began to wake up to the first crisis of the day. Mrs. Kirasagi whistled a cheery tune to herself, painfully off-key as she rounded the street corner. So sound up was she in her own troubles that she had to stand there for along moment in order to properly take in the scene unfurling before her.

Some workers-- the typical blue-collar milk-delivery type-- were trying to pull her off, this raving little street demon soaked in blood. She was the one throwing such a tantrum, breaking into absolute hysterics as the wild lights of the police cars drew closer down the street. Little shadowy heads popped out of windows, peering down with such an unabashed curiosity-- a steady hum of whispers and mutters of, "Oh what a horrid shame, a horrid shame" before the windows slid shut again.

"What happened here?" Mrs. Kirasagi asked. No response from the bystanders, but then louder, "What happened here?"

Someone started rattling something off in Spanish, another in French. She cursed them both in Japanese and pushed her way through the throng of people, demanded once more, "What on _earth_ is going on?"

"Kid got stabbed to death over there. Caught her little friend in the back of the truck here, but she didn't put up much of a fight, just beat it when we told her off. Came back out and found that chick over there dead-- boy did_ she_ start screaming bloody mur-- Owwowwoww! Sonofa_bitch_, woman, the hell was _that_ for!" Still flustered from his first beating by the purse of a middle-aged menopausal woman, the worker cowered away, only to receive yet another blow to the head.

"You... selfish... little... pig!"

_Thwack. Thud. Thwack, thwack._

"How... can... you...!"

_Thud. Thud. Thwack._

Giving up on the now-blubbering man before her, Mrs. Kirasagi abruptly stormed over to the growing cluster of police who all appeared to be fighting very hard to hold the little bloody girl down. Upon closer inspection though, she wasn't that little. _Only a few years younger than Yuffie, maybe, _Mrs. Kirasagi thought. Her incessant wailing and strangely inhuman cries tugged at Mrs. Kirasagi's parental heartstrings and she clutched her purse between her hands once again. She could barely make out a thick puddle of blood seeping out of the shadows of the alleyway, a rush of paramedics and police and swirling lights and cold gray morning and...

"Here dear, clean yourself up."

Mrs. Kirasagi looked at the girl expectantly.

The girl looked at Mrs. Kirasagi like she was crazy.

And yet somehow, between the two of them, they shared a common bond.

Obediently, the girl quieted herself down, wrenching one of her hands free from the startled policemen and taking the crisp white handkerchief offered to her by Mrs. Kirasagi. She took several shallow, quivering gasps of air. The handkerchief looked more like a small white leaf caught in a breeze for all the girl just wouldn't stop shaking.

Turning her attention towards the police officers standing around and regarding her with a dumbstruck gaze, Mrs. Kirasagi scowled and snapped, "What's the _matter_ with you, anyhow? For God's sake, you think she's a murderer for cryin' out loud? She's not only got a goddamn alibi, but she's obviously got the goddamn emotion to back her up as innocent!"

"Ma'am, we're not saying any--"

"You're not, you're not-- like _hell _you're not! You're _not _comforting her, that's what you're not doing. Some damn bit of good you do her like this. Poor girl's scared shitless and you've got your goddamn men all over and and she..." At this, Mrs. Kirasagi's wrath took on a different victim, her purse coming back out to play once again.

"Get the hell off her, already!"

_Thwack. Thud._

"Ma'am, y-you're interfering w-with the law!"

"I interfere with the law when the law doesn't work, damn you!"

The girl was staring off to the side, to the alley. She watched them carry out the bulky black bag and she saw the lights swirling, flashing, rising. Sirens, cameras and sunshine. What a beautiful day.

She saw them all going in, all looking around. Pulling up what little they had and taking it away. Naminé's chalk, her woolen scrap of a blanket, her scraps of newspapers with little drawings here, there...

She saw what she saw, but what she saw only broke her heart. So she stopped seeing. She quite simply closed her eyes and stood numbly, carelessly, swaying slightly on her feet, like in some twisted kind of trance. She was half aware of the voices around her, but in the small space that existed between her closed eyes and the rest of the world, there hid the picture Naminé had painted for her.

_"You're not like me, Kairi. We're different, you see? You didn't choose to live like this. I did. I had a choice. I had a nice home, parents who cared about me, and friends... I had a lot of friends. And I don't know why... I don't know when exactly it was that I started to hate them. But I did. And I felt so guilty for hating them, but the guilt just made me hate them more and it kept growing and growing... Like some sort of monster, right? So I left. And I came here. And I found you._

_"You're not like me, Kairi. You're innocent. You haven't done anything wrong. Not yet. ...Or... maybe you have. But you just don't know it. And that's okay. What you don't know can't hurt you... at least until its time comes. At least until you have to know, because the not-knowing is killing you. Then you'll find out and you'll hate me. Maybe you'll even kill me, in some way. That's **my **prophecy for **you.**"_

Kairi should have seen it coming, but she didn't. She felt someone's hands on her shoulders-- not the rough, uncaring hands of the sorry excuses for city policemen, but rather the warm and soothing comfort of a mother she didn't know, leading her into a false calm and a world away from her own. And though she didn't want to go, Kairi dared not speak a word, for through the din, she heard the woman's thoughts and felt her feelings through her fingertips.

_Oh you poor, poor thing. It'll be alright. I'll make it alright. You poor, poor thing._ Some sort of dependency not all too different from Kairi's own. She felt half an urge to turn and tell the woman to calm herself down-- she'd be fine. But then Kairi wasn't so sure anymore. And she wasn't so sure if it was normal to feel thoughts and respond to them just like that.

In fact, the only thing she was sure of is that she suddenly wanted to get as far away from the alley as possible. So of course, she put up no resistance when Mrs. Kirasagi boldly led her through the crowd, a bloody clot of street scum.

(x) (x) (x)

So whyyy the heck was Miné killed, huh? You've got questions, I've got answers. But first...

Did anyone catch Vincent's brief, brief cameo? No? Shame, that.

Reviews love, and love makes the world go round, round, round. They also make me update faster, be it for this fic ooor others, if you catch my drift. Muaha.


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